


Blood Brothers

by RobinDJTSD11, Robyn Lynn (RobinDJTSD11)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Post Reboot, Robin whumpage, Torture, beaten, even though I hate the reboot, mama bear dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:35:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinDJTSD11/pseuds/RobinDJTSD11, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinDJTSD11/pseuds/Robyn%20Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bruce is out of town for business and he leaves Nightwing to protect Gotham alone without Robin, something is bound to happen. One little birdie tries to prove himself by sneaking out and finishing a case, but he gets into trouble with a psycho, leaving Dick to clean up the mess and save his little brother before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The late summer day began like any other at the famous Wayne Manor, owned by the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. The lawn was freshly cut and the sprinklers were spraying a steady stream of nourishing water over the grass. Inside the mansion not a speck of dust was found on any surface, thanks to its attentive caretaker. Already the smells of bacon sizzling and bread being toasted wafted throughout the household, rousing its exhausted residents from a deep sleep.

Alfred, the family butler, had got up early and made a light breakfast for his hungry charges. He set the food on the table and retreated back into the kitchen. First Bruce came down, already showered and dressed in his business suit, then Damian in his pajamas. They sat down to the simple spread, not bothering to make conversation. Damian sleepily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried not to glare at his father. The Dynamic Duo was currently in the midst of a spat over a topic that every preteen has with their parents. Damian, bravely, broke the silence.

"I still believe that I do not need a babysitter," he muttered, reaching for an apple. Bruce looked up from the Gotham Gazette he was reading and sighed. They had a late night tracking down missing children through the city, but even though they were out until dawn they hadn't found a trace of the abducted kids. Not even a ransom note was left for the parents, but that was to be expected since most of the children were from poor families or the orphanage.

"Damian, he is not a babysitter. Dick is just here to patrol the city while I'm gone for the week," he answered, shaking his newspaper clearly indicating that the conversation was over. Damian, however, was not going to let the subject drop.

"Then why can't I go on patrol with Grayson? He is more than capable of 'watching out for me' if that is what you're worried about." Damian was beginning to lose his temper. He angrily took a bite out of his apple; Bruce placed his paper down and massaged his temples. He was about to reply when Alfred entered the room and interrupted.

"Master Bruce, your car has arrived," the butler said in his usual stoic manner, knowing that he was preventing the fight from escalating.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said standing up. He grabbed a piece of toast and walked over to the door, but before leaving he turned to his son. "Damian, I'll be gone five days on a business trip. You'll just have to deal with Dick until I get back. Goodbye, Damian." He left, leaving Damian to stew by himself. After a couple of minutes Alfred walked back into the room and began to clear the table. A gentle breeze floated in through an open window, tousling Damian's hair as he listened to the clinking and clanking of the plates.

"Master Dick shall be here in an hour or so. I suggest you become presentable before he arrives," he said with his usual calmness. Damian smacked his head on the wooden table with a groan.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, don't worry about it, kiddo," Dick told Damian, ruffling his hair. Night had fallen on Gotham only an hour ago and already Richard Grayson was suited up in his Nightwing outfit. He was putting the finishing touches on his costume, putting on his mask and making sure he had his signature escrima sticks. Dick had arrived a little after lunch, but Damian had completely ignored his older brother. He was still in a foul mood about the 'no patrol' issue and Dick still had hurt feelings over being ignored so he wasn't sympathizing too well with his younger brother. "Bruce will be back in a few days and then you can go out with him."

"Why won't you patrol with me, Grayson? You're probably more than capable to be an adequate partner out in the field," Damian said grudgingly. He was getting pretty desperate. The ten year old didn't like to be cooped up in the house all day. He'd rather be shaking down a gangster for information or beating the snot out of a mugger. Dick was already walking towards the motorcycle rack, leaving Damian dressed in his Robin outfit by the computer console. Dick threw him a cocky smile before throwing a leg up and over the seat of his Nightwing themed cycle.

"We all know that's true, but orders are orders. No patrol for you until daddy-bats gets back. Go over the case files while I'm gone and call me if you see anything important." With that Nightwing buckled his helmet and sped out of the cave, the tires squealing on the path as he accelerated. Damian listened to the sound of the tires fading into the distance.

When the only sound heard in the cave were the bats rustling their wings, Damian rushed to his R-cycle and quickly took off the tracker hidden underneath the exhaust pipe. He didn't want Alfred to alert Dick of his location; he had already hidden the tracker on his uniform in an empty bucket that stood in the corner. There was no way that Damian was going to look at the boring files of crimes that the police department should have be handling, while his older brother was off gallivanting around the town. Especially when Dick hadn't been in town in awhile and he had no back-up

He pulled his arm back and threw the tracker as far as he could. It smashed against the far wall and the little pieces clattered down to the floor. Smirking to himself, Damian put on his helmet with the Robin insignia on the forehead and rolled his cycle to the cave entrance; he didn't want to alert the butler. Robin kick-started his ride and peeled out of the Bat cave. This little Robin was ready to prove that he didn't need a babysitter to be a savior of Gotham.


	2. Chapter 2

As the night continued, the air in Gotham became cooler, causing the young Robin to shiver. He had just gotten through beating up a would-be-mugger and tying the man up for the authorities to handle. An hour had passed and still no contact from Alfred or Nightwing which meant that they hadn't found him gone yet.

Robin shot out his grappling hook and swung up to the nearest rooftop, continuing on his patrol. Being out and actually doing something reduced some of his pent up stress from the day. He always felt better beating up the slime of Gotham. He scanned the horizon looking for trouble. So far no bat signal, meaning nothing major was happening.

Robin decided to continue the search for the missing children that he and his father had failed to find the night before. He pulled out his grappling gun and swung over to the next rooftop. Damian sat with his legs crossed and shut his eyes. He mentally went over the facts.

So far two children from each poor neighborhood, a boy and a girl, had been abducted on their walk to school. The two from the orphanage had been taken from their beds in the middle of the night. Damian had already questioned Colin about the disappearances but there were no leads there. Bruce had posed a theory: that Two Face was behind the kidnappings, but there was no evidence to back it up except that the children were taken in twos.

Making a rash decision, Robin jumped up and changed his course towards the direction of one of Two Face's well known hideouts. The city lights blurred past him as he ran, jumped, and swung towards his destination. He barely heard the noise of the city traffic rushing below him, still going strong even during this ungodly hour. He was so lost in his concentration that he barely heard the beeping of his comm-link.

"Robin? Can you hear me, Robin?" Nightwing's voice crackled out of the earpiece. He sounded irritated. Alfred must have called him, Damian thought. He took a deep breath, knowing the trouble he was in, and reached a hand to his ear and held down the speaker button.

"I'm listening, Nightwing," he said, his voice filled with arrogance. Nightwing, on the other side of Gotham, bristled at Damian's tone and resisted the urge to slap him through the speaker.

"I thought I told you to stay home tonight. Alfred just called and said that he can't find you so, obviously, I'm guessing you disobeyed Batman's orders and went on patrol alone," Nightwing almost shouted. He sat crouched on top of a low-rise apartment building in a shadier part of Gotham, above a drug sale that was going on inside beneath him. Dick was waiting for the right moment to bust in and stop the low ranking mobsters.

Robin "tted" and continued on towards the warehouse where he thought the children were being held. The building, warehouse 22 located on pier 2, and had been frequented by the villain himself a few times beforehand. Dark waves lapped at the wooden columns jutting out of the bay floor, casting a light fog around the area.

"And I told you and my father that I do not need a babysitter to patrol the city I live in. I am perfectly capable of protecting the civilians and myself," Damian huffed. He crouched like a cat on top of a crane and pulled out his binoculars to have a closer look at the warehouse. He stared at the building and tried to discern any people-like shadows from the gloom. On the other side of Gotham, Nightwing crawled around the side of the apartment building and positioned himself next to the window so he could listen in on the thugs' conversation.

"Robin, you removed your tracers and I can't find you. Now you'll have to come to me."

"Can't. I am continuing a case that Father and I were doing last night. I shall meet up with you when I've completed the mission," Robin said, shooting a line and swinging over to the warehouse roof. He glanced through the skylight and saw a child-like figure being led to a closet door by two men with guns slung over their shoulders. "Robin, out."

"Damn it, Damian," Nightwing whispered and punched the brick wall in frustration. Silence filtered in through his earpiece so he decided now was the time to round up the bad guys. Taking a deep breath and getting his escrima sticks ready, Dick broke through the glass and started moving. Eight men with guns holstered were standing around a table with a case of money and a separate case of drugs.

The eight startled men were stunned for a few seconds, leaving an opening for Nightwing to slam one on the temple with his stick, knocking him out, and using the other as a springboard farther into the room. Glass tinkled to the floor as the gangsters got a hold of their shock and reached for their guns.

"Shoot him!"

"It's not the Bat, just his brat sidekick."

"No, that's Nightwing. He was the first Robin."

"Whatever, let's gut the son of a bitch."

Nightwing threw both his escrima sticks and knocked out two more thugs in the process. One idiot tried to shoot him while he flipped over the table and ended up shooting his buddy, who fell to the floor with a groan. Dick easily knocked the shooter out too by landing a couple jabs in the kidneys and ending with a right uppercut.

"Stop shooting! We're just gonna' kill each other."

The remaining thugs realized that their guns would only harm themselves in the close fighting quarters so they pulled out their knives. Nightwing ducked to avoid a wild slash and retaliated with a kick to the stomach and a left hook. While that man fell to the floor unconscious, Dick flipped over a chair and used his momentum to slam another gangster into a wall.

The man, only winded, stood back up and smirked as his friend came behind Nightwing and grabbed him. Dick kicked out his legs, smacking the guy in front of him in the face, making him drop his weapon and upsetting the balance of the man holding him. Nightwing used his body weight to make the man fall heavily on the floor and lose his grip on the vigilante. Using an escrima stick laying nearby, Dick slammed it into the man's bruising head and turned around and elbowed the other attacker in the face. Two more were down for the count, one thug left standing. The sound of a gun being cocked in the now quiet room made Dick freeze.

"Freeze, hero," a shaky voice commanded. Nightwing warily put his hands up; an escrima stick still grasped in one. He turned around slowly. The last gangster, barely older than eighteen, had his pistol pointed at Nightwing's chest. His hands were shaking and he looked terrified. Hoping to take back control of the situation, Dick soothingly talked to the young boy.

"You know, you could really hurt someone with that thing," he said, giving the kid a warm smile. Confused the thug lowered the weapon a little. "Obviously, you've never shot anybody before and you haven't been in the drug business for awhile. You can drop the gun and walk out that door right now and I won't come after you. Scout's honor." He said putting up the three fingers.

The kid thought about the proposition for a moment before smiling cruelly and raising the gun to point at Dick's head.

"After shooting you I'll probably get a promotion," he said. Nightwing sighed.

"Well if that's the case… Look out behind you!" The hero yelled and pointed at the door. The startled thug turned around quickly, not knowing that he was being distracted. Seeing his chance, Nightwing chucked his escrima stick at his opponent's head with spot on accuracy. The kid turned around with anger at being tricked and shot off a round before joining his friends in unconsciousness.

Nightwing, however, tried to dodge the bullet, but he wasn't fast enough and it nicked his shoulder. He let out a yelp of pain and hastily put pressure on the bleeding wound. It wasn't that deep; just a flesh wound. He leaned down and tore off a piece of one of the thug's shirt and tied it around the injury, cutting off the blood flow. Dick tapped his comm. unit.

"Robin? Answer me." No response. He was about to speak again when Damian interrupted.

"A little. Busy. Nightwing," he spat out. Dick could hear grunting and fighting in the background.

"Do you need backup?" He pulled out his phone and sent a message to the cave telling Alfred to trace Damian's communicator signal.

"Not necessary."

"Bull. Where are you? I'll be there soon."

"I don't need your hel-" Damian was cut off with a piercing scream. Dick strained his ears, but he was met with silence.

"Robin? Robin!" Nightwing shouted. There was a shuffling on the other end and then a voice spoke.

"Come and get him, bird boy." There was a crunching noise as the earpiece was stepped on and then static. Dick's blood ran cold. Two Face had his little brother.


	3. Chapter 3

"Robin, out."

Damian silently lifted the skylight cover and jumped down onto a waiting beam. He made his way after the moving figures. The lights were off in the warehouse, probably to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention. It was deathly quiet, save for the sounds of footsteps below. Outside a truck's engine came to life.

The little group stopped at a garage door and opened it. The little moonlight let in allowed Damian to get a better look at the figures below and his surroundings. Two brawny men with guns were escorting a child, no older than eight, out to a waiting truck. Inside the building, gas cans were tipped over and spilling out their poisonous fluids.

They're covering up their tracks, Damian thought. He crawled to the edge of his beam to get a better glimpse. There were eleven children in the back of the truck, guarded by another two thugs.

"Found the brat," one man said as he pushed the child into the waiting truck with his gun. Damian could hear whimpers from the other children.

"You're a meanie-head!" The little boy yelled at his captor.

A short man with a tire around his waist that comes from drinking too many beers grabbed the child's arm. "You wanna' see mean, boy? I'll give it to ya'!" The boy let out a strangled cry while the thugs that were watching laughed in amusement.

"Teach 'im a lesson, Davie!"

"Show the punk whose boss!'

A birdarang flew down and embedded itself into the side of the truck, next to the thugs face. Gasping, the little boy who was being manhandled dove farther into the truck to get away from his attacker. A low, deadly voice spoke from the shadows.

"I'll show you who is boss, Davie." Robin spit out his words like venom. He jumped from the rafter concealed in the gloom and somersaulted through the air. He landed heavily on Davie with a thud. The man collapsed to the ground and groaned.

Stepping off him, Damian addressed the shocked thugs. "Who's next?"

"It's the Boy Wonder!"

"Let's get outa here! The Bat should be close behind." The trio tried to run, but Robin whipped out a bolo and swung it at the closest villain. He tripped and fell to the pavement. The other two pointed their guns at Robin, who was standing in front of the open truck.

Damian threw himself to the side, trying to draw the gunfire away from the kidnapped kids. He circled quickly around the thugs. The guns spat bullets at the young hero; always a second too slow. Robin pulled out his grappling hook and threw it at the beam he was perched on minutes before. The string grew taut and he swung himself back into the warehouse, hoping to hide in the darkness again.

He had forgotten about the gas already soaked into the floor of the building. The bullets struck the foul-smelling liquid and flames erupted with a whoosh. The little bird panicked and threw his body out of the burning warehouse. His face was slick with sweat and blackened with soot. The two brutes with the guns stood awestruck at the destruction they created. Another thug was desperately trying to untangle himself from the string wrapped around his legs. Davie was nowhere in sight.

Amidst the chorus of shrieks and screams from the children, Robin swung his leg out and knocked away one gun, while using his momentum to catch the other gun with his fist. The two weapons skittered away from their owners towards the fire. The rising smoke blocked the light from the moon and the area was illuminated by the dancing flames.

Without their weapons, the thugs were fairly easy to fight. Damian ducked under a sloppy right hook and socked the man with an uppercut. The other villain circled around, trying to find an opening.

"Robin?" A voice came from his commlink. "Answer me." Damian didn't respond. He used one thug's shoulders as a vaulting pad to jump onto his other opponent. The man fell onto his back. The hero straddled him and began to punch him vigorously.

"A little. Busy. Nightwing," he spat out at his overprotective brother.

"Do you need backup?" He could barely hear Dick's voice between the sounds of crying children and the roar of the flames. Damian whirled around and gave the other man, still standing and advancing on him, a flurry of punches.

"Not necessary."

"Bull. Where are you? I'll be there soon."

The younger hero sighed with contempt. His brother's nattering was getting on his nerves. He finished off his opponent with a roundhouse kick. "I don't need your hel-" He broke off his protest with a scream.

With the roar of the burning fire so deafening, he wasn't able to hear a new player sneaking up on him. Damian collapsed to the ground, convulsing from the electricity he had been tasered with. His body was too sore to move and his vision was fading fast. He faintly saw a pair of expensive shoes walk into his field of vision.

"Excellent shot, Davie." The voice was low and guttural.

"Robin? Robin!" A panicked voice sounded over his commlink and Damian couldn't remember, for the life of him, who was so worried.

The last thing he heard before he the darkness consumed him was a voice speaking next to his ear, "Come and get him, bird boy."


	4. Chapter 4

Nightwing paced around the dimly lit cave, lost in thought. His mask was off and he kept running his gloved hands through his black hair. His bullet wound was already stitched up and a white bandage was wrapped around his shoulder. His only company was the glow from the computer screen and the bats that resided on the cave ceiling, sheltered by shadows. It was three in the morning and dawn was quickly approaching. Dick tried to stifle a yawn and keep the exhaustion that threatened to knock him down at bay.

Alfred had managed to trace Damian's communicator to a warehouse, in the nick of time, before it was crushed by Two Face. He had hurried as fast as he could to his brother's last know location, swinging from skyscrapers and sprinting across rooftops. His heart was racing a mile a minute by the time he made it to pier 2, but the firefighters were already there putting out the flames and his Robin was long gone. He did manage to find the broken earpiece buried in the ash and tire marks leading away from the warehouse. The computer was in the process of matching the tracks to any known vehicles in the Gotham area.

Dick slammed his fist against the console in frustration. He had no idea where to look for his missing brother and the only leads he knew of had gone up in flames. The next step would be to call Bruce and tell him what had transpired, but he was too nervous. He didn't want the man to be disappointed. Dick decided to give himself twenty-four hours before he contacted his mentor.

"Master Richard, all of your pacing will wear a rut in the floor," Alfred chided. Dick looked at the older gentleman who had snuck up on him while he was lost in thought and gave him a weak smile.

"My bad, Alfie. I'm just so worried," Dick explained. "The monster that beat me to a bloody pulp when I was first Robin now has my little brother and they're nowhere to be found!"

Alfred smiled at his young charge and placed a tray down next to the computer. On it was a plate of steaming chocolate chip cookies and milk. Dick squealed, a manly squeal, in delight and started to devour the cookies, forgetting his worries for a moment.

"While my joy at your enthusiasm is ineffable, you must rest to keep up your strength if you are going to find Master Damian."

Dick frowned and put down the cookie in his hand. He took a swig of milk before he answered, "I can't sleep, Alf! I don't have any leads. Two Face has been laying low for weeks, according to Bruce's reports, and his regular warehouse has burned to the ground!" The young man began pacing again with his hands behind his back and head towards the floor. "I'm afraid to call Bruce because he'll probably never trust me again for losing his son!"

"I sincerely doubt that Master Bruce will never trust you again for the young master's mistake of disobeying orders," Alfred reassured the vigilante pacing in front of him. The squeak of bats filtered down from the darkness above.

"I'll give myself a day before I call up Bruce. Just in case it's a false alarm and we find Damian perfectly okay and snarling at some poor mugger. We don't want him to come all the way back to Gotham for nothing," Dick told him, trying to make himself believe his own words.

"Although I admire your optimism, if you shall not call Master Bruce, then you do indeed require extra assistance."

"There's nobody in town, though," Dick stated glumly. "Tim is who-knows-where with that group of metas and Babs is off with the Birds of Prey." Alfred smiled a knowing smile that the younger man did not catch.

"I had someone else in mind," he said.

"Who-" Dick began, but he was cut off by a beeping coming from the computer. He rushed over to the console and quickly read the report. The tire tracks belonged to a tractor trailer truck that was stolen two weeks ago in the Gotham City area, though it belonged to a man from out of state. The report did not give any indication of who the robbers were or where they were going, so Dick was back to zero leads.

He was about to groan in frustration when another beeping came from the computer. A red light was flashing repeatedly. The bat-signal was on; meaning Commissioner Gordon needed the Batman. He bit his lip in thought as he decided whether or not he should answer the call. Alfred was the one to break the silence.

"It will probably be in your best interest to answer the signal. It could be important and related Master Damian," the butler told the vigilante. Dick nodded; his mind made up, and grabbed his mask. He reapplied it to his face as he made his way to his motorcycle. Swinging a spandex clad leg over his bike, he gave Alfred a salute, revved the engine, and then peeled out of the cave.

Left alone, the older man made his way upstairs to the telephone. He was going to call someone for the backup Dick needed. He owed the butler a favor and he was perfect to help with the task at hand.

"Good evening, Commissioner," Nightwing greeted as he stepped out from the shadows, startling the other man, even though he was used to vigilantes appearing out of thin air. "Or should I say morning? What brings you to the office this early?"

Trying to calm his racing heart, Gordon replied, "We received an email from an anonymous source with a website link. It says it's for you, but I think you should call in Batman for-" Dick cut him off.

"Batman's out of town, but I'm pretty sure I'm capable of seeing it myself," he said with a smirk. Gordon frowned, but said nothing. He inclined his head for the vigilante to follow him as he made his way to his office. None of the officers gave Nightwing a second glance; they were used to the Commissioner's nightly meetings.

After shutting his door behind them, Gordon sat down at his cluttered desk and began to type something into his computer. He brought the email up on the screen and abruptly stood up.

"I'm going to get some coffee. I've already seen it, so help yourself to the exit when you're done," he said giving the young man a look of pity before walking out of the room. Dick gave the man a weird glance before sitting in the previously occupied chair to read the message.

The sender's address was in the form of a random bunch of letters and numbers, probably rerouted through several servers; making it untraceable. The subject line read: For Nightwing. Underneath, in the message was the link to a website he had never heard of. There was a video taking up most of the page and a title at the top. It read: A GAME FOR TWO in all capitals, underlined, and bolded. Nervously, Nightwing clicked on the video and it began to play.

The footage was shocking. Robin was tied to a chair, clearly unconscious, his wrists handcuffed to the arms of the metal chair and his ankles were handcuffed to their respective chair legs. The walls were black fabric, making it impossible to discern any distinguishing features. A single, bare light bulb hung suspended from the ceiling, a couple feet above the captive hero.

Laughter resonated throughout the room and Harvey Dent walked into view, wearing his signature suit striped suit. He smirked at the camera before signaling to an unknown person beyond it. That person stepped forward and positioned himself next to Robin. He was big, about six feet tall and very broad shouldered; his face was covered by a ski mask. Two Face began to speak, blocking Dick's view of his little brother.

"Well, Nightwing, as you can see, I have your little successor here, completely at my mercy. I heard the Bat isn't in Gotham at the moment; don't be so shocked. My people are everywhere. I have a little challenge for you that will have to wait until tonight because it's almost light outside. I know how much you nocturnal sociopaths like your darkness. At eight o'clock this evening, the video you are now watching will be replaced by a live streaming broadcast where I will give you my instructions. If you don't follow them to the letter, then I'm afraid the little birdie here will have to die. To show you how serious I am here's a little preview of what's to come."

Two Face smiled wickedly and stepped out of the way so that Robin could be clearly seen. While his boss had been talking, the man standing next to him had tied a black cloth gag in Damian's mouth and roused the young vigilante awake. Damian was struggling against his bonds, but he was securely tied to the metal chair. The man pulled out a pair of wires and attached them to the Robin's arms before stepping to the box they were connected to and pressing a button.

Dick gasped in horror as his little brother was electrocuted. Damian's body spazzed violently as the gag muffled his screaming. The electricity was then quickly cut and the boy's body collapsed against the chair as he breathed heavily. He shot his captors a weak, but defiant, glare. Harvey laughed and walked back into the camera's view and ruffled Robin's hair. He tried to head butt the villain, but Two Face simply backhanded the vigilante, causing his head to snap back from the force.

"Eight O'clock. Don't be late or Robin's situation will become more… Perilous. Oh, and don't invite the big man. This is between me and you." The screen cut off, leaving Dick to continue staring in shock. That shock quickly melded into rage. He took out a flash drive from his belt and copied the email. He left through the window just as Commissioner Gordon walked back into the room with a steaming cup of coffee, leaving the man to watch Nightwing swing into the still dark morning.

Dick had no idea where Damian was, but he did know one thing. When he found his little brother, Harvey Dent was a dead man.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard Grayson was anxious.

When he finally stumbled back to the manor, he had barely made it to his bed without passing out. He woke up around four in the afternoon feeling like he had been hit by a truck and rolled in garbage. He rolled out of bed and managed to peel off his suit and bloody bandage, and then got into the shower before he remembered the events of the night before.

After he was clean, clothed, adequately fed, and wound redressed, he made his way down to the Batcave. There he had changed into a fresh costume, minus the mask, and opened up the website that would lead him to his brother. Dick had not stopped looking at it since he sat down.

While he was asleep, Alfred had tried to trace the email address, but came up with nothing. Dick had done the same and also found nothing. He couldn't even find any hints in the video (which he watched at least fifty times) as to where Two Face was keeping Damian.

Dick had discussed with Alfred the problem of Two Face having a vendetta against Nightwing. The thought that he had been the cause for Damian being kidnapped was sickening and he felt nauseous with the guilt. Alfred assured him that it was Robin being in the wrong place at the wrong time that got him captured and not the older vigilante's fault at all. Harvey only saw an opportunity to hurt Nightwing and he took it. The old man's reassurances eased his guilt a little, but not by much.

Now, it was two 'til eight, and Dick was dreading the coming video. His nerves were frayed and his hands were clammy with the thought of his little brother being restrained by this monster all day. He couldn't stand it. It was so silent in the cave, not even the bats were rustling; it seemed as if time had stopped. Alfred appeared out of thin air, not even uttering a sound, just waiting. Everything seemed to be holding its breath for the toll of the hour and what was to come.

At that moment the clock struck eight and the video started streaming.

Robin was still tied to that chair, the same as that morning except for small differences. There was the addition of a large purple bruise blossoming across the young hero's cheek and a strip of duct tape was wrapped around Damian's head, effectively silencing him. He seemed to be looking right at Dick, as if he was trying to tell him something important. Two Face strode into the camera's line of sight, smirking at the camera.

"Well, well, Nightwing. Eight o'clock already? Time flies when you're having fun," he said and winked at the camera. He tried to brush his hand along his captive's face, but Damian flinched away; Dick's blood began to boil. Harvey laughed and addressed his audience.

"You may have heard that twelve children from the slums of Gotham have gone missing and connected the dots back to me. You are right in your assumption. I kidnapped the kids and I was going to use them as a distraction when I robbed a bank or something, but since I caught your little birdie here, I couldn't resist using him too."

Dick's grip tightened on the arms of his chair. Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to instill some comfort. Damian stared defiantly back into the camera.

"So here's my little game: you have two choices. You can either choose to save the Bat's sidekick here or save those twelve, itty bitty tykes from destruction. But there's a catch. Whoever you don't save will be beaten within an inch of their life and then shot in their forehead."

Harvey paused and looked towards Robin. Damian continued to look at the camera and ignore his captor. The bare bulb flickered above them, causing the shadows to grow longer on the young boy's face and give him a haggard appearance. Two Face grinned manically at Dick.

"You have twenty-two minutes to either make your way to the children or the Bat Brat. The address will be shown when you click on your choices at the bottom of the page; you just have to click and I'll know your decision. You only get one choice though. I won't give you the other address because I know you'll send one of your vigilante friends after the loser. I suggest you choose wisely."

With this, Harvey stepped out of the camera's view, allowing Dick the necessary time to make his choice. Damian shook his head ever so slightly and continued glared at the camera, communicating to him that he would not accept the choice to save him. Dick gave a yell of frustration and banged his head on the keyboard.

"What am I supposed to do, Alf," he whispered to the older man. Once again, the butler put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Ultimately, you will make the right choice, Master Richard. It is clear that the young Master Damian will not allow you to sacrifice the other children for him," Alfred answered solemnly. "We can only pray that Robin will be able to get out of this mess or Harvey Dent will spare the young boy."

Dick looked up at Alfred with tears in his eyes, but swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Turning back towards the screen, Dick Grayson made the most difficult choice in his entire life. He moved the cursor past the link that said ROBIN and instead clicked on the link that said KIDS.

The choices disappeared and in their place popped up the address of where the abducted children were being held. Laughter filtered through the speakers as Harvey walked back onscreen with a baseball bat. Damian looked at the floor and his face scrunched as if he was squeezing his eyes shut. His chest rapidly rose and fell in time with his breathing.

"Excellent choice, Nightbutt! You better hurry: the clock's ticking." Two Face twirled the bat in his hands, wound up, and slammed it into Robin's stomach. The boy gave a grunt of pain, but nothing else escaped the gag.

Not able to take any more, Dick rose up unsteadily, knocking over the chair, and ran to his motorcycle. He shot Alfred an apologetic look before slapping on his domino mask. Throwing one leg over the seat of his cycle, he roared out of the cave, tires squealing. Nightwing's red and black suit quickly fading away into the gloom along with the sound of the engine.

Dick stalled his motorcycle in front of the abandoned apartment building that Two Face sent him to. It was a rickety, old building in one of the shadier parts of Gotham. All the lights were out in the surrounding buildings and the only illumination was a single street light, a couple hundred feet down the road from the vigilante, bravely fighting the threatening darkness, though it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. On the top floor of the crumbling building, light faintly escaped around a heavy curtain. That was where the kids were.

It had taken Nightwing sixteen minutes to get to his current location. It was now 8:37 PM and hardly any people were out in this part of town. A homeless person, startled by the snarl of the engine, retreated quickly into an alleyway, finding refuge in the darkness.

He shut off his motorcycle and the silence engulfed him. Only the sound of his beating heart was heard. Dick was pushing himself to save these kids through blind rage and utter willpower because if he didn't focus on the fury, then he would collapse from the grief.

He darted up the front steps and through the front door, closing it as softly as he could behind him. Reaching one hand to his mask, Nightwing activated night-vision mode and continued through the building. Debris and garbage, leftover from squatters and partiers littered the hallways as he gingerly picked his way through the building. He made it to the staircase, he ran up the steps as stealthily as he could. He had three floors to go and four minutes to save the children.

Four minutes until his little brother was executed.

Dick shook the dark thoughts from his and continued up the dilapidated stairs. It's what Damian would have wanted him to do; keep moving forward.

At the top floor landing, he peeked his head around the corner of the wall and quickly pulled it back when he spied a guard at the door. He had to take the man out quickly before he alerted the others inside the room to the vigilante's presence. Nightwing quietly unstrapped an escrima stick from his back and gripped it tightly in his hand. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he jumped into the hallway and threw his weapon towards his target in one fluid motion. Following the stick, he caught the unconscious man before he hit the ground and made any noise.

Spying a hole in the wall next to the door spilling out light, Nightwing peered through and memorized the space. Twelve children were standing in a huddled group at the back of the room, farthest from the door. A moldy couch and four men in ski masks holding sub-machine guns stood in various positions between the captives and the hero. Dick tapped his mask again to turn off the night vision. He stepped away from the hole and glanced down at his watch.

A minute to spare; Nightwing kicked down the door.

"Move!" Dick shouted to the children before throwing his two escrima sticks at the two closest hired thugs. The startled men were slow to react; one stick hit a man in the temple and effectively removed him from the fight. The other flew through the air and knocked the weapon from the biggest guy in the room.

Nightwing moved gracefully through the room, ignoring the awed looks and gasps from the children from their safe position on the floor. He executed a flying kick into a third man's chest, throwing him to the ground, gasping for air. The thug still holding on to his gun finally came to his senses and began to shoot at the dodging hero.

Nightwing ducked under the line of fire and twisted around the man to get behind him. The man turned out to be a woman, but that didn't matter to the hero. From there, he swept out a leg and knocked her to the ground before knocking her out with a right cross. Unknowingly, she had actually hit her partner with the stream of bullets and the man was on the floorboards clutching his chest, moaning. He wasn't going to make it. With another thug down and Dick unable to save him without risking the kids, he turned to face the last threat.

The big guy, at least three hundred pounds, was running towards the vigilante with a raised fist. Nightwing implemented a back handspring to dodge the attack while simultaneously kicking his opponent in the face. The kick seemed to have no effect because the thug roared and kept swinging.

He ducked and weaved to avoid the hits, but they were coming too fast for him to dodge completely. One fist caught him upside the head, while another connected with his stomach. All of the breath left his lungs.

"I've got ya' now."

Dick went down in a blurry haze. The heavy man straddled his chest and gripped the hero's throat in his hands. He squeezed and Dick's vision narrowed down to a tunnel. His lungs were on fire, begging for oxygen. He scrabbled uselessly at his attacker's arms and face, trying to get free, but he couldn't find a purchase and the thug would not budge.

At this point, Dick's vision was dangerously nearing black; all sights were blurry.

"Get your hands off Nightwing!"

"You meanie-head!"

"Get him, guys."

The vice-like grip around his neck disappeared and air flooded back into Dick's lungs. Gasping, his vision cleared and a peculiar sight met his eyes. The twelve children that were just huddled together on the floor were now kicking and beating their captor. The man raised his arms to defend himself from the onslaught.

"Nightwing, catch," one little girl yelled, as she tossed him one of the guns that had been dropped. Acting quickly, Dick jumped up, grabbed the gun out of the air and swung with all his might towards the thug's head. Metal met flesh with a sickening crack and he slumped to the floor.

He grinned at the cheering children and gave the little girl a high-five. Their relief and excitement was palpable.

"All right, kiddies. Let's get you guys home," Nightwing said. He began to herd the children towards the door when his comm. went off.

"Master Richard?" Alfred asked. Hesitantly, he reached a hand up to earpiece, dreading the answer that he knew was coming.

"I'm listening."

"Master Damian is gone."

With that, Dick collapsed to the ground. His breathing shook his entire frame; he grit his teeth and tried to stop the tears from overflowing. Dick punched the floor with a barely contained ferocity. The children quieted and surrounded their hero, sensing his grief, but not knowing why. They silently tried to comfort their savior as he continued to punch the ground. A single teardrop escaped his domino mask and splashed against the wooden floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Damian woke up slowly, with a pounding headache, to laughter. His thoughts were muffled as he tried to sift through them and figure out his current situation. He kept his head down and eyes closed beneath his mask. Gradually, a burning warehouse and a taser to the back came to him in bits and pieces. Damian concluded that he had been kidnapped while he was out of it.

Suddenly, a gag was shoved in his mouth and secured behind his head. His head shot up in surprise.

Damian struggled; he bucked his body and wiggled his arms, trying to free his wrists from the handcuffs trapping them against the chair’s armrests. Light from the naked bulb above him burned his eyes while illuminating the room. He could see that he was being kept in a warehouse and there was some sort of black fabric surrounding him. A man appeared in front of him and attached wires to Damian’s arms. It took only a few seconds for him to figure out what was happening and prepare himself for what was about to come.

As the electricity coursed through his body, the young hero tried to stifle the screams that escaped the gag. His body stiffened and spazzed; the pain was excruciating. It continued on for a few more seconds before the power was cut off and Damian collapsed against his chair. He sucked in air through his nose and shot his captors an angry—albeit weak—glare.

Harvey Dent walked in front of him and ruffled his hair. Damian tried to head butt the villain, but missed completely due to his restraints. Harvey backhanded the vigilante and his head snapped back from the force of the hit, hard enough for Damian to see stars for a moment.

"Eight O'clock. Don't be late or Robin's situation will become more… Perilous. Oh, and don't invite the big man. This is between me and you," Two Face said to video camera that Damian just realized had been recording him. The red dot winked at him as it went out and the recording stopped.

Harvey began laughing and patted Damian on the head as he walked by. The boy growled at him, earning another slap on the left cheek that was still stinging from the previous hit. The thug standing next to the power generator grabbed the camera and followed his boss out the door.

Damian used their absence to escape. He spit out the gag and it rested against his neck. He maneuvered a lockpick out of its hiding spot in his glove and began to work on the handcuff. After a minute, the lock opened with a satisfying click. He quickly started on the other wrist, aware that time was passing very quickly. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and slowly made its way down his cheek as he frowned in concentration.

His thoughts whirled around in his head as to why he was taken instead of being killed on the spot and why there had been a camera in the room. The only thing his mind could come up with was that the camera was there to record a hostage video—starring the Boy Wonder. He deduced that the only recipient would be Batman, but since he was out of town, Nightwing would have the pleasure of viewing his weakness. Damian tted at the thought of Dick going into mother hen mode and then pestering him when he finally escaped.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?”

The lock clicked open as he jumped in his seat, startled from his thoughts. Two Face was storming towards him with a vicious glint in his eye. When he reached his captive, Damian defended himself, punching and kicking out, making Harvey jump back to keep his distance. All of a sudden, he smiled slowly and a confused Damian only had enough time to turn his head to see the baseball bat arcing towards him.

Everything went black.

* * *

****  
Damian woke up groggily, his head pounding. He groaned at being so stupid as to not see the thug sneaking up behind him. He noticed that his handcuffs were back on, his lock pick was gone, and his cloth gag was replaced with duct tape that wrapped around his entire head and pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck.  


He rolled his neck to test out the pain his head. The pain originated on the on the left side of his head and blossomed out in a dull ache over the rest of his face and head. If he didn't move too quickly, he figured out, then the pain wouldn't be too intense.  


He tested his restraints and was disappointed to find that they were secure: too tight to slip his hands through and no key to open. The situation was same for his ankles attached to the legs of the chair. Damian gave up on escaping and looked around his prison, trying to glean any information that could help him or Dick. The black cloth surrounded him on three sides to conceal the clues of his location from the video camera. The light bulb directly above him created weird shadows.

 

Straight in front of him was a doorway, leading outside. There were some crates and shelves so, Damian deduced,  he was in some sort of storage closet. He heard shuffling from just outside the door, meaning a guard was stationed there. He faintly heard the sound of rushing water and a fog horn sounded in the distance—he was by Gotham River. That meant he was in a warehouse near the docks.  


He had to figure out some way for him to communicate this to Dick. Talking was not an option, obviously, as was blinking because of his domino mask. That left sign language, but he could not make it too obvious or Two Face would catch on. He finally settled on Morse Code with his fingers and was practicing what he was going to tell his brother when Harvey walked in.

  
"Hey there, Champ. Ready for the show tonight?" Damian glared at the man. "Don't get your panties in a bunch; the fun's about to begin."  
       

The thug that electrocuted him from before walked in carrying the camera and a tripod. He set it up before leaving the room once again. Damian watched his every move, looking for anymore signs of his whereabouts. The thug came back in, this time carrying a baseball bat. He looked at Damian and smirked. Damian glared back at the man, giving him his best imitation of his father's signature batglare. It must have worked because the thug quickly looked away.  
       

Satisfied, Damian went back to practicing the Morse code he needed to use. His movements had to be perfect or else Dick would not be able to decode the  message. It also had to be short and sweet; he didn't know what Two Face had planned for him. The thug 's cellphone rang out in the silence, startling both the guard and the captive. With a wary glance towards the boy, he took it out and answered it.

"Hello?" He said into the receiver; Damian rolled his eyes. "Yo, Davie! What's happenin' man? ... Yeah, the party's bout to start. ... Yep, Warehouse 22. ... Hurry up or you'll miss the fun."

He flipped his phone shut and Damian raised an eyebrow at him. He almost wanted to slap the guy for being so stupid to say their location right in front of him. Harvey walked into the room at that moment and nodded at his thug. He reached over and turned on the camera, the red light blinked on, taunting Damian.

Damian tried to communicate to Dick where he was by tapping his index finger discreetly on the arm of his chair. ".-- .- .-. . .... --- ..- ... . / ..--- ..--- / --- -. / .-. .. ...- . .-. .-.-.- / .... ..- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.-" He was about to repeat his message when Two Face began to speak.  
"Well, well, Nightwing. Eight o'clock already? Time flies when you're having fun," he said and winked at the camera. He reached out towards Robin's face, but, thinking he was going to hit him, Damian flinched away. Harvey laughed and Damian cursed himself in all the languages he knew for showing such weakness.

"You may have heard that twelve children from the slums of Gotham have gone missing and connected the dots back to me. You are right in your assumption. I kidnapped the kids and I was going to use them as a distraction when I robbed a bank or something, but since I caught your little birdie here, I couldn't resist using him too."

Damian was kind of let down that Two Face wasn't going to be more creative in his scheme. It really was a disappointment after all those hours of searching. Harvey continued speaking.

"So here's my little game: you have two choices. You can either choose to save the Bat's sidekick here or save those twelve, itty bitty tykes from destruction. But there's a catch. Whoever you don't save will be beaten within an inch of their life and then shot in their forehead," he said, gesturing towards his own head.

Damian froze, staring pointedly at the camera. He had been expecting Two Face to sell him to the highest bidder, not kill him off so quickly. He tapped his message again. The light bulb above him flickered.

"You have twenty-two minutes to either make your way to the children or the Bat Brat. The address will be shown when you click on your choices at the bottom of the page; you just have to click and I'll know your decision. You only get one choice though. I won't give you the other address because I know you'll send one of your vigilante friends after the loser. I suggest you choose wisely."

Harvey stepped off screen and Damian cursed his gag—he wanted to shout at Dick to save the kids instead of him. He would never forgive his brother if he had to carry the blood of those children on his hands for the rest of his life. He quickly tapped out a new message. "..-. --- .-. --. . - / -- . .-.-.- / ... .- ...- . / -.- .. -.. ... .-.-.-"

Two Face pulled out his cellphone and viewed a text message. He began to chuckle and stowed his phone, taking the baseball bat that his thug was holding out to him. Damian knew Dick had made the right choice. He only hoped that his big brother wouldn't be too upset over his death. He looked at the ground, closing his eyes and trying to control his breathing as he waited for the first hit.

"Excellent choice, Nightbutt! You better hurry: the clock's ticking," Harvey said as slammed the bat into Damian's chest.

His vision blackened around the edges and he grunted. He resolved to show as little pain as he could to this madman. He just hoped the camera wasn't still on recording this. The bat came again, striking his left shoulder. Before he could recover, it hit him again in the opposite shoulder; he heard a crunch.

He moaned through the gag, glaring at Two Face. His captor chuckled and dropped the bat, motioning for the muscular thug in the corner to go to work on the Boy Wonder. He cracked his knuckles and lumbered over to the vulnerable boy in the chair.

Fist after fist smashed into his face. He felt his nose break after the third punch. Bright red blood splattered everywhere, painting the fists of his torturer. The man pummeled him like a punching bag, but soon grew bored and stopped. Damian slumped in his chair, his chin touching his chest, grateful for the slight reprieve.

The thug sauntered over to where Two Face had dropped the baseball bat—he had left the room shortly after the man had began working Robin over. He hefted it over his shoulder and walked back over to the boy and grinned. Before Damian could react, he swung the bat down, smashing Damian's left hand and breaking a few fingers. He did it a few more times, crushing the bones in his hand. Damian couldn't took the pain anymore and screamed after the fourth finger broke.

Unconsciousness threatened to pull him under and he wished it would.

The man stopped his attack and stepped to the side as Two Face reentered the room, this time toting a small handgun. Damian's heartbeat quickened at the sight of the weapon. He knew the time had come. Determined to meet his death with dignity, he forced his gaze to meet Harvey Dent’s.

"Well, our time has come to an end," he said to the camera, which was, to Damian's horror, still recording every gruesome detail. "Goodbye, Robin."

Damian closed his eyes; Two Face pulled the trigger.

The gun went off and Damian's heart stopped beating. When it picked up it's regular rhythm again, he realized he was still alive. Had Two Face missed him? That seemed highly unlikely at point blank range. He blinked through the haze in his mind, noticing that the camera had been shut off.

"You didn't think you were getting off that easy, did you?" Harvey asked the boy, smirking. "Why waste a perfectly good profit? I have many associates that would pay good money to finish you off themselves."

Damian barely processed the words coming out of his captor's mouth. The pain was overwhelming him.

"Get him strung up in the main room," Two Face ordered. The thug unlocked the handcuffs from around his ankles and wrists. Damian didn't have the strength to try and escape, though he did lash out with his uninjured hand, breaking the thug's nose as he had already done to him. The man dropped Damian to the ground, howling in pain and trying to stop the blood from gushing out between his fingers.

The little bird smiled through his gag at the small triumph and let the darkness consume him and take away his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long absence. I hope this extra long chapter will make up for it. If any of you know Morse Code, then you can figure out Damian's messages. If not, then I'll explain next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

Dick sat in the computer chair, studying the video. He forced himself to watch every movement, every detail, looking for some sort of clue because Damian was not dead. He couldn’t be. Everything felt wrong, like some gut instinct was telling Dick to keep searching, to not lose hope. He winced every time the bat connected with his brother’s flesh or a fist left a bloody bruise.

“Master Richard, it’s time to make the call.” Dick turned around to look at the old butler. He looked like he had aged twenty years that evening.

“Alf, he’s not dead; he’s alive. I can feel it,” he said. “I just need to find out where he was being kept and go from there.”

“Even though I wish with all my heart that the young master was not dead, his father deserves to know,” Alfred replied wearily. Dick turned back towards the computer monitor, rubbing his temples. His mask and gloves were off and lying nearby.

“After I’ve exhausted every lead, I will call Bruce. He probably won’t speak to me ever again but...” He trailed off, leaning forward and squinting. “Do you see that?”

“See what, Master Richard?”

“That!” Dick exclaimed, pointing at Damian’s tapping fingers while Two Face greeted the camera. “I think that’s Morse Code!”

“Indeed it is,” Alfred said, moving closer to inspect the message.

“What does it say?” Dick asked anxiously. Alfred ignored the question and pulled out a piece of paper with a minimal amount of writing and a pen. He began to draw dots and dashes, matching the movements Damian was making. Alfred began writing letters underneath the drawing and it soon formed a message: WAREHOUSE 22 ON RIVER. HURRY.

“Are there any other messages, Master Dick?” The old man asked. Dick fast forwarded through the video until Alfred told him to stop. “The pattern is different here.”

Alfred drew out the new message and translated it.

“‘Forget me. Save the kids.’ That’s definitely not the same kid that attacked Tim with a severed head,” Dick said sitting back. “Bruce’s teachings must be finally sinking in.”

“Or yours,” Alfred replied. Dick managed a small smile at the elderly man before standing up.

“I need to get to that warehouse,” he stated. He slapped his mask back on his face and adjusted his gloves as he walked towards his motorcycle.

“Won’t you need backup, Master Richard?”

“Everyone’s busy, Alf,” Dick replied. “I can handle this myself.”

“Even so, I’ll make a call and send someone to aid you.”

“Okay,” he said, putting on his motorcycle helmet. “I’ll be back soon. With Damian.”

With that, he swung his leg over the seat and revved the engine. He raced out of the cave, leaving Alfred to blink away the dust, and headed towards Warehouse 22.

****

 

* * *

 

****

When Damian woke up, his hand was screaming. Definitely a few broken fingers, he thought to himself. His other hand was numb due to the ropes cutting off the circulation. He kept his eyes closed and groggily assessed his situation.

He was suspended by his wrists in the center of a large room. He heard the bustle of people move around him; it sounded like they were setting up for something. A dirty cloth had been secured between his teeth again and he almost gagged from the foul taste. Damian felt the crusted blood—his dried blood—on his face.

Damian opened his eyes, figuring his situation couldn’t get any worse if they knew he was awake. The view of the room made him want to close his eyes again. He was in the middle of a large warehouse, out of the small, dark room he had been kept in. Light from the moon filtered in through a filthy skylight, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. The dirty lights hanging from the ceiling did not fare much better than the moon in giving off light. There was a wooden podium standing next to him, almost rotted through entirely. It looked as if it could not even hold the weight of a paperclip. Those things did not scare him, though.

The assorted villains and their henchmen, taking their seats in front of him did. Poison Ivy was there, wearing nothing but plants. Harley was there as well, with a few of her goons. Penguin was seated in the front, his bodyguards on either side and Black Mask glared at him from across the room, his white suit immaculate. Scarecrow kept to himself at the edge of the group and the Mad Hatter muttered to himself gleefully.

It was a young vigilante’s worst nightmare.

Harvey stood next to the podium, giving directions to his henchmen. The thug that had beaten Damian to a bloody pulp was among them and a bandage had been placed over his broken nose. If there hadn’t been a gag in Damian’s mouth, he would have smirked. Harvey gave an order and the men left to guard the doors. Two Face took his spot behind the podium and assessed the room quietly before speaking.

“Hello, friends, villains, scum, the bane of Gotham—though it is too bad that he couldn’t make it. I assume you all know why I’ve called you here tonight,” he said to his audience.

“Just get on with it, already!” Harley yelled from the back, earning a couple of chuckles. Two Face scowled; Robin hung limply, pretending to still be unconscious.

“Okay, I will. Tonight, I am auctioning off Robin, the boy wonder.” A ripple of murmurs went through the group and Harvey watched with a pleased expression. “He’s a little beat up—I had to have a little fun myself—and Papa Bats and Nightbird think he’s dead so there will be little interference from them. Bidding will begin at two million and there will be no fighting in this room. If you have a problem with each other, take it outside.” He looked pointedly at Black Mask and Penguin.

“Two million one-hundred dollars,” Mad Hatter cried.

“Two million five-hundred,” Ivy said, preening the leaves in her hair.

“Three million!”

“Four million.”

“Twenty million,” Penguin shouted.

Damian groaned. These people were lunatics and it did not matter who won, he was a goner for sure. He gave up on being unconscious and studied his surroundings, looking for an escape. That was when he saw a shadow pass across the skylight.

He looked around to make sure no one had noticed and let go of a shaky breath when he saw that they were still arguing. Harley picked up a chair and waved it threateningly at the Scarecrow. Damian looked back up towards the skylight and a giant grin greeted him. The owner of said grin waved at him and ducked out of sight. You are such an idiot Grayson.

Just then, the lights went out and all hell broke loose.

****

 

* * *

 

****

Dick crashed through the dirty skylight, sending slivers of glass flying everywhere. After turning out the lights, he knew that he would only have a small opportunity to grab Damian and to get the hell out of Dodge. But, as usual, things didn’t always work out easily for him.

“It’s the Bat!”

He landed on top on Black Mask, knocking him out, and bashed one of Harley’s thugs upside the head with an escrima stick he grabbed from his back. Spinning around, he struck Penguin’s body guard in the stomach and then grabbed his head and kneed him in the face.

Poison Ivy quietly slipped away, dragging Harley with her and Cobblepott fired into the darkness while his one remaining body guard hefted him over a shoulder and carried him from the room. Scarecrow and the rest of the thugs surrounded Nightwing, grinning maliciously.

He took out Scarecrow first—the biggest threat. The villain's hands reached towards his pockets, but Nightwing flipped over one thug, using him as a springboard, and knocked the man down. A nerve strike to the neck rendered him unconscious. Nightwing rolled to the side as a bat swung down, cracking the concrete right where his face had been. He jumped to his feet and blocked a punch that was aimed at his face. He grabbed the attacker’s hand and pulled, setting him off balance. An elbow to the nose left that man moaning on the floor, trying to staunch the blood flow.

Nightwing was about to take out one of Harley’s men, dressed to look like a clown, when a gun being cocked and the sound of muffled threats made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Two Face had the barrel of his gun pressed up against Robin’s face. The boy was glaring fiercely, but his face was white with pain.

“Nice try,” Harvey said, smirking at the vigilante. Two thugs tackled Nightwing to the ground, struggling to hold him down. Dick tried to fight back, but he didn’t want to get Damian injured. “You scared off my paying customers, you brat, but I might be able to make up for it.”

Mad Hatter inched forwards, a hat in his hand. He giggled madly. Dick thrashed wildly, but one thug had a knee in his back and another held his arms down. He was trapped.

“Tetch, how much will you give me for this one?”

“Any-anything you want,” he replied, licking his lips. He stood in front of Nightwing, staring down at the vigilante and fingering the hat in his hands. Dick twisted so he could see the podium.

“Harvey, let Robin and myself go and I promise you won’t get the thrashing I came here to give you.” Two Face chuckled to himself and lowered the gun from Damian’s face.

“What makes you think that you can give demands in your position,” he asked, leaning forward. Robin took this chance and lashed out with his foot, catching Harvey in the back and making him tumble forward. Dick snorted and struggled to get free before the villain got back up. He knocked the thug off of his back, but he didn’t expect the the hand that grabbed his hair and smashed his face into the ground. The room turned black and white spots danced across his vision.

“I’ve had enough of you,” Harvey spit out, dusting himself off. He pointed his gun at the boy hanging in front of him. Dick stumbled to his feet, but the thugs pushed him back to his knees. “Goodbye, little birdy.”

A gunshot rang out, knocking the gun from Harvey’s hand and he doubled over, clutching the injured appendage to his chest.

“This party’s just getting started,” the Red Hood growled, jumping through the broken skylight.


	8. Chapter 8

Jason landed lightly on the balls of his feet, bending his knees slightly to absorb the impact.

“Say hello to my little friend,” he said and casually shot one of the thugs holding Nightwing. The man hissed in pain and grabbed at his shoulder while the other man let go of the vigilante, backpedalling with his hands up in a placating gesture. Dick rolled his eyes underneath the mask and took the opportunity to slam his elbow into the injured man’s neck—he crumpled to the ground unconscious—and roll backwards to knock the other guy over before Jason could take him out, too.

The Red Hood was busy taking down the remaining thugs that had deemed him more of a threat than Nightwing. Dick was totally okay with that—it gave him a chance to go after his little brother. He just hoped that Jason kept it clean and didn’t kill anyone. Dick had enough headaches to last him a couple weeks.

Damian bobbed his head frantically, trying to catch Dick’s attention. He rushed over to the young vigilante and quickly untied the rag from his mouth.

“Don’t let them escape,” Damian said breathlessly, nodding towards the retreating figure of Two Face and his henchman.

“Hold on, I gotta get you down,” Dick said, ignoring the other boy’s command.

“Nightwing, go!” Dick grabbed a knife from his boot and sliced through the rope holding Damian up. He caught his brother as his legs buckled with the sudden weight and he fell to the ground with a groan. Dick gently placed his brother on the floor and with one last look, he raced after Two Face, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The villain was halfway to his waiting car before Nightwing tackled him from behind. They sprawled on the ground, landing in a heap a few feet from the car. Dick flipped Harvey over and began pummeling him. All the anger and stress and grief from the last couple of days spilled out of Dick. He hit the man until his face was a bloody mess. It was a fitting retribution for hurting his Robin. As his arm wound up for another punch, someone grabbed his fist and threw him from the unconscious villain.

Harvey’s henchman, the one from the video—now wearing a bandage over his nose—growled at the vigilante and rushed him. Nightwing sprung to his feet and sidestepped the attack. The man turned around and came at Dick again, his fist raised. He dodged the thug again and retaliated with a punch of his own. The man whimpered when Nightwing’s fist connected with the tender flesh around his nose. He dropped his guard to clutch at his face and Dick to the opportunity to swing out his leg and catch the man on the side of his head. His eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the ground.

Satisfied, Dick gave Two Face one last kick to his gut and jogged back to the warehouse. Jason was finishing up with one last thug; none appeared to be dead, so that was a good sign. Damian was trying to lift himself onto his knees, only using one hand—the other, cradled against his chest. Dick rushed over to help his little brother up. Ignoring the weak protests, he swung the little Robin up into his arms, bridal style.

“How are you feeling, Dami?”

“Like I got run over by the batmobile,” Damian groaned. He hugged his broken hand to his chest. “Why is there blood on your hands?”

“I got even with Two Face,” he muttered darkly. He looked back at the young boy and said softly, “I was so worried, Lil’ D.”

“‘Tt’ I could’ve gotten out of that situation myself.” Dick shook his head, exasperated, ignoring the comment.

He walked over to Jason, who had just finished with the last of the thugs, bashing him in the head with his gun. “Thanks for the save, Red Hood.”

“Don’t mention it, Golden Boy. Agent A called me—said you could use a little back up,” Jason replied. “How’s the kid?”

“I think he’s going to be fine. Would you mind calling cops for me while I get Robin home? You’re welcome to stop by after. I’m sure Agent A would like to hear from you.” Guessing that Jason was about to decline, Dick added, “He’ll probablu have a fresh batch of cookies waiting.”

“I’m sure I could stop by, but just for a couple minutes.”

Dick grinned at his brother and carried Damian to the motorcycle.

****

 

* * *

 

****

“Master Jason, please refrain from placing your muddy boots on the computer console.”

“Sorry, Alf,” Jason said, putting his feet on the floor and munching on a chocolate chip cookie.

Dick shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention back to Damian. The Boy Wonder was currently sleeping in a hospital bed in the cave. Alfred had managed to clean up his wounds and set his broken hand—that had not been fun to watch. Damian had also lost a lot of blood so he had an IV in his arm, pumping the much needed blood into his body. Dick sat by his side and held the sleeping boy’s hand. He figured the lecture could wait until Damian was feeling better.

“Thanks, Jase, for saving my butt,” Dick said again. He was convinced that he would have been a goner for sure if Jason had not shown up when he did. He also gave the man kudos for not killing anyone.

“Don’t mention it, Dickiebird. It was a favor to Alfred. Where’s the big man anyway?”

“He’s on a business trip and left me in charge.”

“Great job, you did.” Dick scowled at his brother. Both of them had taken their masks off when they got to the cave and Dick had changed into a pair of sweats, though Jason kept his Red Hood attire on.

“It wasn’t all my fault. Damian should have most of the blame there. I don’t know why he didn’t listen to me,” Dick said quietly. He still felt incredibly guilty for allowing this happen.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Baby bird probably did this as an ‘eff you’ to his dad.” Jason shoved another cookie into his mouth and Dick sighed.

“I believe it’s time for you call Master Bruce and relay to him the events that have transpired,” Alfred said pointedly, looking at Dick.

“Well that’s my cue to leave,” Jason said, jumping up, grabbing his helmet, and slapping his mask back on his face.

“You can stay and help me explain things,” Dick offered weakly.

“No way, you’re on your own, Golden Boy; I did my part. Thanks for the cookies, Alfred. It was nice seeing you.”

“Come back soon,” Alfred replied. Jason saluted the old man, nodded at Dick, and swung one leg over the seat of his motorcycle. He revved the engine and sped into the night. Dick gulped and untangled his hand from Damian’s. He trudged to the computer like a man to the gallows.

****

 

* * *

 

****

_“Irresponsible in the line of duty. He could have been killed.”_

Damian drifted out of sleep to the sound of arguing. No, not an argument. More like a scolding. He winced at the pain that flooded back to him, riding on the tide of consciousness. His head was pounding and his hand felt like he had put it through a meat grinder.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I accept full responsibility for Damian getting hurt. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

Damian’s head snapped towards the voices. He narrowed his eyes. Grayson was taking the blame for his actions. He struggled with ripping the IV from his arm and held his uninjured hand over entry point, keeping pressure. He carefully slid to his feet and limped over to the computer where Grayson and his father were on a video call.

Grayson looked like a kicked puppy, his head hung and shoulders hunched. This was unacceptable. His father had a dangerous glint in his eyes—he was pissed.

“You are banned access from the cave until I see that you are worthy of—”

“Excuse me, Father, but Grayson is not at fault here,” Damian interrupted. Dick looked up and gave Damian a bemused look. Bruce’s glare zeroed in on the young boy and Damian did all he could to not flinch. “It was my fault. I snuck out of the Cave after Grayson left because I wanted to show you how I could handle myself.”

A flicker of surprise showed itself on his father’s face, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “What you did was reckless and stupid, Damian.”

“I know, Father, and I’m sorry. I regret my actions and would happily accept any punishment you have for me, if you would not punish Grayson.” Bruce considered this for a moment.

“You’re not allowed in the Cave for a month. No training, no helping, no Robin. Am I understood?” Damian closed his eyes and let a steady breath out through his nose. His head was pounding.

“Yes, Father,” he said. Bruce nodded.

“Dick you’re off the hook. We’ll talk more when I get back.” Grayson looked almost relieved. “And Damian. Rest up, son. I’m glad you’re okay.” With that, the transmission cut out.

The cave was quiet for a moment before Damian stumbled with a bout of dizziness. Dick squawked like the mother hen he was and swept the boy into his arms. He carried him back to the hospital bed and set him down.

“Are you okay, Dami? Where does it hurt?”

“Stop coddling me,” Damian demanded, fending off his brother. Dick sighed and plopped into the chair adjacent to the bed. He looked at the boy for a couple minutes, brow furrowed in thought.

“Why did you stick up for me?” He asked suddenly.

“‘Tt.’ It would be a blemish on my honor if you accepted my punishment.”

“But, why? Having Robin taken away would have sent you into a psychotic rage.” Damian sighed.

“You rescued me, I simply returned the favor. Now go away, I want to sleep.” Dick smiled at his little brother and ruffled his hair before standing up. He chuckled at the glare Damian sent him and made his way up the stone steps into the Manor.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Lil’ D,” he called over his shoulder. Damian huffed and closed his eyes, but his stomach rumbled, echoing in the quiet cave.

“Pennyworth, I require on of those cookies you made earlier.”

“Of course, Master Damian,” the butler said with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's the end of this story; I hope you all enjoyed it. Ta ta for now! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first story on AO3! It's just a re-post from FanFiction and I'll be posting the rest of the story on both sites. Thanks for reading!


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